Labor Remembers Haymarket

A Tragic Event 110 Years Ago Almost Forgotten, But Not By All

May 04, 1996|By Paul Galloway, Tribune Staff Writer.

Most of the hundreds of motorists who drive by the intersection of Randolph and Desplaines Streets each day are likely to be unaware of passing one of Chicago's most historic sites--indeed, the scene of an event felt throughout the world.

The only official reminder of what happened at what was once known as Haymarket Square is a small plaque that is practically invisible, set in the sidewalk.

But for almost an hour Friday, those who were driving west from the Loop on Randolph toward the entrances to the Dan Ryan and Kennedy Expressways could look out their car windows at a crowd gathered at the site and perhaps conclude that something big had once happened there.

Those with a knowledge of city or labor lore would have made the connection when they saw the largest banner being held among the crowd, which read: "Chicago Remembers Haymarket, May 4, 1886. Labor Fighting for Justice Then and Now."

As a result of the violence that occurred on that date and the recriminations that followed, Haymarket Square would become a symbol for both opponents and supporters of the labor movement and would eventually be recognized by historians as a stain on the American legal system.

The 100 people who gathered at noon Friday to commemorate the 110th anniversary of the violence that occurred there heard a series of short, punchy orations from members of labor unions, past and present, and longtime friends of labor.

"This is not exactly the prettiest place in Chicago," said master-of-ceremonies Pasqual Lombarde, vice president of the United Legal Workers of Chicago. "I doubt that tour buses stop here. They should. What happened here changed the course of labor history (in this country and abroad). This ground is sacred."

On the night of May 4, 1886, a rainy Tuesday, a crowd of between 1,200 and 2,500 people--accounts vary--assembled for a labor rally at Haymarket Square to protest management attacks on workers and push for the eight-hour workday.

By 10 p.m., most had left, and a heavy rain had begun to fall when a formation of 180 Chicago policemen appeared. A bomb thrown by someone in the crowd exploded, killing one officer instantly and wounding many others. The police responded by firing into the crowd, and when it was all over, 11 people were dead, eight of them police officers.

A jury would subsequently find eight men guilty of taking part in the murders of the policemen. Five were hanged, and three were imprisoned to be pardoned seven years later by Gov. John Altgeld.

Historians agree that all eight were innocent of taking part in the violence against the police.